


Low-Hanging Fruit

by MdeCarabas



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, M/M, crack! fic, rampant use of innuendo, rvb rareship week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MdeCarabas/pseuds/MdeCarabas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picture a world where Butch Flowers survived as leader of Blue Team. Great. Now picture a world where he and Private Donut get to interact with each other in a significant way.</p><p>Yeah. It goes about how you'd think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Low-Hanging Fruit

“Yoohoo, blue base! Is anybody there?”

Tucker leans over the edge of the roof he’s standing on, peering suspiciously down at the familiar pink armor. “Donut? What are you doing here?” he demands to know, “This isn’t another one of Sarge’s stupid plans to invade us, is it?”

“Well, not _right now,_ ” Donut says unreassuringly, “He doesn’t have anything planned until later tonight. He wants to see if attacking under the cover of darkness with help our odds. Like a sneak attack!”

Tucker snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think it counts as a sneak attack if you go around telling the enemy about it,” he points out, “In fact I’m pretty sure that’s the exact opposite of what you were going for there.”

“Oh, right,” Donut says sheepishly, “I hope Sarge doesn’t get too mad at me when he finds out I ruined his big surprise for you guys. He’s been working on this plan all week!”

“Meh. I don’t think it matters,” Tucker replies, “The Captain’s pretty good at making sure nothing gets into blue base without his knowledge.”

It’s great when he’s using his awesome military skills to keep the reds from messing with their stuff, but it sucks major donkey balls when Tucker’s trying to receive secret shipments of some of his favorite videos.

Donut brightens visibly, even though that shouldn’t be possible through all that face concealing armor he’s currently wearing. “That’s true! I guess it doesn’t matter if I tell him or not.”

“Now now,” Captain Flowers says out of nowhere, “I don’t want to hear any of that nonsense about lying to your commanding officers.” The two of them startle, Tucker nearly falling off the side of the building, but Flowers pays no attention to their surprise. He continues on in that weird, fatherly voice he always puts on, “Good boys like you should know better than to say things like that.”

“Yes sir,” Tucker says with a sigh.

“Aw, I guess so,” Donut says reluctantly.

Captain Flowers steps out of the shadows of the empty doors leading in to blue base, helmet turned in Donut’s direction with curious tilt to his head. “Now why don’t you tell me why you decided to pay us all a visit today?”

“Oh! Right!” Donut says again. He straightens his back and bounces a little on the balls of his feet. “I just wanted to know if any of you would like to have some of the homemade sausage I made this morning.”

He lifts a hand and waves it in explanation, and sure enough, he’s holding a small Tupperware container that Tucker somehow failed to notice earlier. Donut’s shoulder slump in something resembling a sulk, and when he speaks there’s an audible pout to his voice, “I originally made it for red team, but when I asked everyone if they wanted to taste my sausage, they just yelled at me and told me to stop asking. I guess they’re not much of a fan of kielbasa.”

Tucker snickers. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s why.”

“So anyway,” Donut continues blithely, “I decided to come over to blue base to see if any of you were interested in having some. I’d sure hate for all this food to go to waste!”

A chuckle comes from behind Captain Flower’s helmet, aqua armor shaking slightly at his honest amusement. He always did seem weirdly fond of Donut. Or maybe not some weirdly, when you think about it. Donut’s a pretty nice guy, especially around these parts. Even Church likes him and that guy doesn’t like anyone.

“Private Donut,” Captain Flowers says warmly, “You may be the enemy, but you’re also the sweetest boy I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. If you were one of my soldiers, I’d sit down at the kitchen table every morning and let you feed me whatever sausage you had on hand.”

“Uh,” Tucker says.

“In fact, I’m sure I speak for blue team when I say I would be delighted to have the chance to wrap my lips around some of that tender meat of yours.”

“Whoa, okay,” Tucker interrupts hastily, “I’m gonna cut you off right there.”

But it’s clear that the Captain isn’t listening to a word he says, too focused on watching the way that Donut practically lights up at his words. “Really?” Donut exclaims, bouncing happily, “That’s great! And if you really like it, I can bring over some of the other stuff I make! You haven’t _lived_ until you’ve tasted my banana bread.”

Captain Flowers nods solemnly. “I would _love_ to taste your banana bread.”

“Annnd I’m done here,” Tucker says, backing away before this whole thing gets any weirder than it already is. He’s not sure he wants to be around if Donut ever gets his head out of his ass and realizes what Flowers is actually saying.

Those two take all the fun out of making euphemisms.

 

* * *

 

Simmons’ hands fly up in the air as he backs away, stumbling as he accidentally backs into the kitchen table. “Please don’t kill me, sir,” he says quickly, voice going high pitched in that way that got him beat up in high school, “I only came over here because Donut said he’d let me lick the bowl! I’m too young and handsome to die! Plus, I haven’t even had time to write my will yet!”

That’s a lie. Simmons wrote his very first will when he was ten years old and he even took it to the notary to get it stamped. There was no fucking way he was gonna let his asshole brother get his hands on all those first edition pokemon cards. Those were going with him to the _grave_.

“Oh, hi Captain Flowers,” Donut says cheerfully, “Caboose and Tucker said it was okay for us to use your kitchen to make Sarge’s birthday cake. I hope that’s alright with you.”

Flowers tsks, head shaking as he looks down at the messy counter with fatherly disapproval. Part of Simmons wants to sit up straight and beg him for forgiveness, but the other part is too busy cowering in fear. “Looks like I’m going to have a talk with my men about base security,” Flowers says gravely, “It wouldn’t do to let them grow lax.”

Donut’s face falls in disappointment. “Does that mean we can’t finish making the cake in here?” he says anxiously, “But we have to! If we make it at red base then Sarge will find out! That’s gonna ruin _everything_.”

“Donut, shut up about the stupid cake,” Simmons hisses.

Captain Flowers is the only one in this stupid canyon that actually knows how to fight and he’s more than capable of _ripping their faces off_. He pretty much single-handedly kicked all of their asses back to red base during that night attack a few weeks ago.

Donut may not remember since he’s the only one who managed to avoid getting shot, but Simmons still feels the ache in his shoulder from the bullet that slipped in past his armor and he isn’t looking forward to feeling it again.

He wants to make it out of this kitchen alive.

But to his surprise, the blue team’s leader slips off his helmet and bares his face, peering over at them affectionately like a doting father. No, wait, not at _them_ , Simmons notes suspiciously, happy tingle fading at the realization, but at _Donut_ and Donut alone.

“I suppose it’ll be alright just this once,” Captain Flowers says with a smile. He leans over and chucks Donut under the chin, lingering with his thumb rubbing against Donut’s jaw. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint a nice boy like you.”

Simmons gapes in disbelief.

Donut doesn’t seem to notice how odd it is that he’s sitting in the middle of an enemy base getting _felt up_ by the Captain of the soldiers who are trying to kill them. He beams up at Flowers as if he just offered to pay for a shopping spree at Bed, Bath  & Beyond, and the two of them smile at each other while Simmons tries to figure out what the hell is going on.

Donut pulls at the fingers at his face and wraps them around the bowl in his hands that’s filled to the brim with bright red icing. “You can help me decorate if you want. Simmons would just mess it up, but you look like the kind of man who knows how to use his hands.”

The smile that comes over Flower’s face is almost predatory, and his tongue rolls around the syllables in blatant _suggestion_ even though his voice never loses that amiable tone. “My hands can be just as nimble as you need them to be,” the Captain replies.

Simmons groans and slumps in his chair.

No amount of cake batter is worth having to sit through this.

 

* * *

 

“Donut, I have three questions for you,” Church begins impatiently, “One, what the fuck are you doing at blue base in the middle of the night. Two, why the fuck are you in bed with _Caboose_ with the lights off, and three, what the _fuck_ are you wearing? Are those _booty shorts_!?”

The last question gets that shrill high pitched tone that Tex used to tease him about, but who the fuck cares, because he’s got a goddamn red in the middle of his base and he deserves answers, okay?

Caboose huffs irritably, waving his flashlight around like he’s upset. “Church, Church, you are _ruining the story_ ,” he whispers anxiously, “Private Pastry Puff was just about to tell me what was making the scratchy sound on the roof of the car.”

He nods knowingly and leans in as if he’s telling Church a secret. “I think it is a friendly squirrel who knows how to speak English,” Caboose confesses, “And he will take the nice young couple on a magical adventure in the woods. And _everyone will be happy forever!_ ”

“Um, Caboose,” Donut says hesitantly, “I don’t think you really understand the concept of a scary story. They don’t usually—”

“Do not spoil the ending!” Caboose shouts insistently, angry words echoing down the hall. The two of them stare at him warily, but Caboose relaxes all of a sudden, happy smile crawling back over his face. “Church, do you want to sit with us and hear the story of the funny squirrel?”

Church has a sinking feeling he knows what’s going on here. “Ar-Are the two of you actually having a fucking _slumber party_ at blue base!?” he yells at the top of his lungs, “Does no one around here remember that there’s a fucking _war_ going on!?”

A shitty war where there’s hardly any fighting, but still a war.

Frustration rises as he realizes that Sarge’ll probably come running over any second, screaming about the treachery of blues and accusing them all of kidnapping one of his men. _Great_. Now he’ll have to put on his armor and deal with that for forty-five minutes, all because these two idiots decided they wanted to braid each other’s hair and talk about boys all night long.

There goes his ten hour of sleep.

Church glares down at the ruffled sheets and snack-crumbs strewn all around the bed, mind moving frantically as he tries to figure out how to fix this mess. When he looks back up at them, he rolls his eyes at what he sees. “Caboose, what have I told you about pouting?”

Caboose heaves a sigh, overly dramatic in the way his shoulders rise and fall. “No one cares if you’re upset, so don’t bother doing it,” he repeats from rote, glum look coming across his face, “And do not sulk or cry. And don’t ask _anybody_ to play games again just to see if they are sure, because they heard you the first ten times you asked. And—”

“ _Caboose!_ ”

Caboose pouts even more.

Donut makes a face at him and crosses his arms in a combination of solidarity and sheer defiance. “Well, that’s a little _mean_ if you ask me,” he says indignantly, “Caboose was just trying—”

“Look, Donut, I don’t really care about your weird little friendship with Caboose either,” Church says dismissively, “All I need for you to do is to tell me whether or not you think Sarge will be coming after you or not.”

Donut shakes his head confidently. “No way! He thinks I’m over here _spying_ on you guys,” he explains, “That’s the only way I could get him to let me come over.” He runs his fingers through his light blond hair, tugging guiltily at the strands. “I feel a little bad about lying, though. He sounded really happy about it. He said it brought a tear to his eye. And I think it _did_!”

“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” Church says drily. But he relaxes a little bit at the information, even though something’s still niggling at the back of his mind. “Hey, wait, how did you manage to slip past Flowers?”

“The two of them asked me for my permission ahead of time.”

Church jumps two feet in the air and whirls around immediately to glare up at his commanding officer. “Godfucking _dammit,_ why do you keep doing that all the time!?” he says in exasperation, “Can’t you join a conversation like a normal person for once?”

Flowers tsks at him reproachfully.

“Oh. Uh, sorry, Captain Flowers,” Church says automatically, “I mean, ‘Can’t you join a conversation like a normal person for once, _sir_?’”

“That’s better, Private,” Flowers says with a nod. He leans to the side to get a better look into the room, and Church moves aside to give him more space. Caboose waves at Flowers from the bed, looking like a little kid with his messy hair and a mouth covered with crumbs.

Donut, on the other hand, looks _nothing_ like a little kid, and he stretches out on the sheets like he’s posing for a picture. Flowers notices, and Donut notices him noticing, and Church notices both of them noticing like it isn’t way too fucking early in the morning to be dealing with this high school bullshit.

“I’m not too pleased that he felt the need to lie to his commanding officer again,” Flowers continues, giving Donut a stern look to show his displeasure, “But I’m more than happy to let two of my favorite boys have fun for a night.”

Caboose wriggles in pleasure, bedsprings creaking as he moves. “We were having story time,” he explains joyfully, “Corporal Cheesy Crust was about to tell me how his story ends.

Donut perks up all at once, sitting up on the bed and forgetting all about posing seductively. “You should join us,” he says eagerly, “There’s plenty of room still left on the bed. And if there isn’t, I could always sit on your lap!”

Church snorts. “ _Smooth_.”

It’s like Donut lights up completely the minute he sees Flowers walk inside, already shifting over to give him room on the bed. “I would be honored to join you and Caboose on your sleep-over,” Flowers says as he walks over to them.

“Yeah, well, you guys have fun with that,” Church says with a smirk. He gives Donut a thumbs up behind Captain Flowers’s back, “Don’t traumatize Caboose too much. I don’t want him asking any awkward questions over breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Church!” Caboose says happily, “I promise that I will not be traumatalized by his story.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Church replies.

He raps on the door instead of saying goodbye and turns to go just as Donut pulls the Captain down to rest against his side. The last thing he sees before he leaves is Donut placing his head on Flower’s shoulder.

 _Good luck with that_ , Church thinks honestly.

What can he say, he’s always had a soft spot for the kid, and there are worse things to wish on your enemy than to hope they get laid. Plus, if Donut decides to start sticking around, he’ll probably start making them breakfast in the morning. Maybe then Tucker’ll stop bitching about the way Church makes pancakes.

There are no downsides to the two of them getting together, Church thinks as he strolls down the hall. Even Sarge can’t fuck this up. Well, okay, he probably can, but hell, Flowers can handle that guy easily enough.

As if to prove him wrong, a muffled comment comes trailing down the hall to find its way into Church’s ears.

“Private Donut, your health and beauty routine is working wonders on your skin. Never before have I seen a firmer pair of milky white thighs spread out on the bed beside me.”

Church walks a little faster.

Okay, there might be _one_ downside to the two of them hooking up. But hey, Church has been dealing with Flowers and Tucker for over a year, so adding Donut to the group can’t possibly be too big of a deal. Can it?

“Thanks!” Donut replies eagerly, “I’ve been experimenting with a bunch of lotions to help tighten the skin. You can really _feel_ the difference. Here, let me show you.”

 _Motherfuck!_ He should’ve known this was a bad idea from the start.

Church breaks into a jog.

 

* * *

 

Donut’s been sitting by himself for over twenty five minutes before he hears the crunch of footsteps behind him. He doesn’t look up, but the aqua armored boots that walk into his sightline tells him everything he needs to know.

“Hi, Captain Flowers,” Donut says gloomily, “What are you doing way out here by red base?”

Captain Flowers crouches down in front of him and looks at him through his shiny metal helmet. The distance it puts between them is the only reason Donut doesn’t immediately throw himself into his arms. “Call me Butch,” Flowers says firmly, “Or Daddy if you pleases you.”

Pleasure runs through him—but then he remembers, and his smile wavers before it has time to settle on his face. “You can call me Franklin,” he offers with a sigh, hair coming down to cover his eyes as he stares down at his lap.

Gloved fingers brush against his chin, lifting it slowly until he’s holding his head high.

“I can’t bear the thought of a sweet boy like you looking so sad,” Butch says tenderly. His fingers trail down his face in a blatant caress, causing Donut to shiver where he sits. “Why don’t I strip off all my armor so you can sit on my lap and tell me all about it?”

Donut sniffles a little at the reminder. “I don’t think I’m allowed to sit in your lap anymore,” he says miserably, “Simmons let it slip that I wasn’t really spying at the slumber party and then Sarge threatened to lock me up for treason! He called me a collaborator! I don’t even know what that _means_.”

But Butch’s hands are already going up to pull at helmet. Donut watches, oddly comforted by the sight, as the armor is slowly stripped from his body and carefully placed next to them on the ground. He sits down next to Donut when he’s done and casually pats his knee in open invitation.

Donut doesn’t need to be asked twice. He crawls over the few inches between them and climbs into the Captain’s lap, arms already moving to wrap around his neck. He leans against Butch with a happy sigh, wiggling contentedly as a hand comes up to rest against his thigh.

“That _is_ quite a conundrum,” Butch says thoughtfully, “Neither of us wants to see you get in trouble with your commanding officer, but I don’t think I’m alone in saying that my days would be sadder without you in them.”

His hand strokes soothing circles over Donut’s thigh, but his other arm is firm and possessive as it wraps around Donut’s waist and holds him near. He feels strong against Donut’s side, like he’ll fight off anyone who tries to pull them apart.

Donut rubs his nose against Butch’s jaw. “Sarge has got Simmons watching me 24/7 so I can’t sneak off to blue base,” he says plaintively, “I had to pay Grif off with my last batch of oreos just to distract him this morning so I could escape.”

He was going to use those to make a triple layer chocolate pie for dessert. Now they’re going to have to settle for a plain old single layer chocolate pie instead – and that’s _boring_!

But then, they deserve it for the way they’ve been treating him lately. Maybe he won’t even _make_ them dessert with their next meal. Maybe he’ll even stop making them dessert all together. Hmph! That’ll teach them to mess with Franklin Delano Donut.

“Such a sweet boy,” Butch murmurs fondly into his hair, oblivious to the dark turn his thoughts have taken. “Such a sweet, sweet boy you are. A man would be foolish to even _think_ about keeping someone like you locked away from people who care about them.”

Like lightning, a secret thrill shoots up Donut’s spine.

“In fact,” Captain Flowers continues gravely, a hard glint entering his eyes, “I think it might be high time I had a talk with the good Sergeant about the way he treats his troops.”

Donut wrinkles his nose as he considers that plan. “I don’t really think you’ll be able to convince Sarge to let me hang out with you guys again,” he says doubtfully, “He’s really stubborn when it comes to trusting the blues. I don’t think talking to him is going to change his mind.”

“No, Franklin, I don’t think it will.”

“Buuuut,” Donut says slowly, “Maybe we could go to red base and have a talk with Simmons instead. He’d be _way_ easier to talk to than Sarge, and I really think we have a chance of convincing him to look the other way!”

A low rumble shakes him slightly, and he looks up to see Butch smiling down at him like he’s something precious. “Pretty and clever,” he says softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over Donut’s lips, “Aren’t you just the most delightful thing I’ve ever met?”

Donut shivers and leans into the touch.

He supposed that talking to Simmons can wait just a little while longer. Right now, he and Butch have something far more important to do.


End file.
